


A Faun Farewell, Chapter One

by Narniagrownup



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: AU, Archenland, Murder Mystery, Pre-Book: The Last Battle (Narnia)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narniagrownup/pseuds/Narniagrownup
Summary: A returning veteran of the Archenland Expeditionary Force must solve the murder of Sussoronus the Faun.





	A Faun Farewell, Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> The is the first chapter of a planned cozy mystery set in 25th century Archenland. The tone is substantially different than original. For some unknown reason, when I was thinking about writing a cozy mystery, the dwarves from The Last Battle who insisted they wouldn't be taken in popped into my head. 
> 
> There's a part of me that is concerned about disrespecting the original, as this Archenland is clearly a bit more cynical. Narnia was a great source of comfort during some trying times, and I still read it at least once per decade and regard it with great fondness even if my beliefs have drifted away from Lewis's. But then I think of his war service and wry humor, and hope it would be taken in the spirit it is meant.

True to form, Linza was being no help. The years had not improved that aspect of her sister’s personality, and Ragna wasn’t sure why she was here. Linza was definitely in violation of the works-hard stereotype of dwarves, which was, Ragna supposed, a good thing for some value of “good,” but it was still aggravating for Linza to be sitting at the kitchen table, feet propped up to show off her pretty shoes (with no concern for what she might be getting on said table), and sipping tea in the one cup Ragna had from their mother (and she’d have to be sure Linza didn’t pocket it) while Ragna was busy getting squared away.

Sure, Ragna had been gone for the six years of her enlistment in the Archenland Expeditionary Force, but they’d had a week to catch up now that Ragna was a civilian (no matter how poorly the word sat on her), and there was no reason for Linza to help Ragna and Kamini move into their rented cottage. So why had she bothered to show up at all? It was bugging Ragna; unanswered questions always nattered around in her skull like gnats on a muggy afternoon.

Linza had meandered in long after the hard cleaning was done, despite Linza’s repeated assurance she was going be there exactly on time to help her sister and the panther. Pretty Linza had always been able to bat her lashes and get away with petty infractions with their father that Ragna was not allowed, the elder and surrogate mother. If they’d been able to live with their mother’s clan, it might have been different, but they were with their father’s. The chain of the matriarchy was broken and her grandmother seemed incapable of fixing it. Her aunts were flatly unwilling.

By the time Linza arrived at the cottage, Ragna and her former messmate were doing repairs and security upgrades before moving anything else in. The cottage had come with some basic furniture: sturdy, plain, and not the right size for either of them. They were used to that. It was a fact of life in a mobile unit comprised of such diverse species moving among diverse species that comfortable furniture was rarely to be found. You made do or, more often, did without.  
Linza’s idea of help was to glance around the room at eye level for flaws in the woodwork, not the extra help Ragna actually needed. That veneer of assistance completed, Linza nagged Ragna to make her tea and climbed into the chair. For what seemed to Linza like the twentieth time in the same number of seconds, Ragna interrupted her sister’s determined performance of selections from the newspaper.

“Could you take just a second and steady this shelf for me?” asked Ragna. Her sister gave a martyred sigh, tucked the newspaper under her shoulder, clambered up on the counter, and put a hand on the rickety board that was suspended overhead. Ragna looked at first from one side, and then another, hammered in a couple of nails in succession, and then nodded at it. Linza rolled her eyes, hopped off the small stool they’d put on the counter, and scrambled onto the floor.

“Hey, Kamini. Can you field test this for me?” Ragna called across the room to her messmate of the last six years and now roomie. Kamini bound across the room and jumped to the dwarf’s side in two smooth motions. It never ceased to impress. 

Kamini looked at the shelf; it passed visual inspection. She turned her cool green eyes on Ragna and looked a question at the dwarf. Ragna threw up her hands.

“It’s not like I’m a woodworker—I want to see if it stands up,” Ragna explained.

“You know I’m all about the finesse,” said Kamini, flexing her enormous paw. She was just doing that for Linza’s benefit. It was working. Linza’s eyes were saucers. 

Kamini looked like elegance walking, but the black panther could explode into controlled violence at a nod. Ragna could respect what Kamini was doing—but it was so annoying that Kamini could just strike a pose and get some respect. Ragna had to scrap for every bit that was grudgingly given her.

“Yeah, that’s why I wanted you at my back—your finesse,” Ragna snorted. “Just lean on the witch-poxed shelf.” Kamini did as asked, looked back at her friend, and nodded. If Kamini hadn’t smashed it to the ground, the shelf would stand up to whatever they decided to store there. 

Kamini slipped quietly back to her task on the opposite side of the cottage—checking for vermin, bugs, and security weaknesses. They were probably safe enough back here in the capital, but they’d survived their enlistment period relatively unscathed, and they weren’t going to let civilians get them when the enemy hadn’t.  


“Can you listen now?” asked Linza. “Sussurones Speaks only comes out once week.”  


“Sounds like a performance problem to me,” said Ragna.  


“Weak,” returned Kamini.  


“Ragna,” Linza said, drawing out the two syllables like she were a pleading six-year-old.  


“Yeah, fine. Who or what beyond the sea is this su-su thing anyway?”  


Linza breathed out a monumental sigh for her sister’s equally monumental ignorance. “He’s only the society reporter for the Anvard Herald,” she said, now sighing in a different key. “All those beautiful clothes. All that lovely food.” The reverence ended abruptly. “Will you listen now?” she asked, a bit peevishly.  


“Sure,” said Ragna, not really meaning it. She needed to keep checking her side of the room. They’d looked it over for basic integrity before taking the cottage, and they’d heard about their landlord by word of mouth from other vets, but you always did security checks yourself. It was as much a part of her now as her muscles and teeth.  


Linza started reading, "Lady Godsworth wore a sky blue spidersilk gown with—"  


“Spidersilk?” spluttered Ragna. “They make dresses out of spidersilk?”  


“Of course,” said Linza with a sniff. “Where have you been?”  


“Classified,” said Ragna and Kamini together. It only disconcerted Linza momentarily.  


“Spidersilk,” she repeated dreamily. “I got to touch some once. It feels like what clouds look like.” Ragna rolled her eyes. If she kept doing that, she was going to pull a muscle.  


“Mice, do you figure?” commented Ragna.  


“Probably,” said Kamini. She kept tapping on boards and listening.  


“What do you mean, mice?” asked Linza. “You’ve got mice?” Her voice was rising to a bit of a squeal. Ragna shook her head.  


“They probably have mice making your frollywobble’s dress. In some dingy factory. Long hours, no breaks, low pay, company store, child labor. But spidersilk has got to be fragile, delicate, need small hands. So we’re thinking mice,” explained Ragna.  


“You two have been together too long,” sniffed Linza.  


“Probably.”  


Linza went back to her article, and then squealed, almost making Ragna drop the second shelf she had picked up in order to check the underlying supports—whatever they might be called. She balefully glared at Linza, knowing it would do nothing to deter her sister. It made her feel better. Righteous, even. Linza was oblivious. 

“Listen to this,” Linza exclaimed. "'Alexandra, Baroness Orlandia, is rumored to be giving a private party for the Hobbit ambassador arriving this week, the first to visit these shores. Her late husband the baron went to university with the ambassador and she can claim the coup of the season if she can show him off before the crown. The tiger is on the prowl, and the rest of le bon ton is in her wake, hoping to be in on the kill."  


She looked up, eyes shining. “Isn’t that exciting?”  


“Umm…sure?” replied Ragna. It was now Linza’s turn to roll her eyes at Ragna. Their mutual inability to comprehend the other’s basic lack of understanding of the important things in life was a barrier to sharing anything more than their family of origin as a bond.  


Linza said impatiently, "The Baroness is the last talking animal in the peerage—and is the same one that Livvy’s cousin does pick-up work for. She’s probably got an in—which means I can probably find myself one, too.”  


The statement left Ragna puzzled. “You’re excited to wait tables at a big to-do for the high nobbins?” asked Ragna. Linza had to drag herself to her regular job—which was waiting tables at a pub. Ragna failed to see the attraction the difference in clientele would make. Evidently Kamini was having the same problem.  


“Won’t the customers there be even ruder and handsier than the pubbies? And you can’t wallop them with a mug if they misbehave,” Kamini noted. Linza made a weird trilling noise, like a dyspeptic turkey. Ragna and Linza looked at each other, trying to decide whether to intervene, but Linza forestalled them with her response.  


“You’re so funny. No, silly. I’ll go as a guest,” she declared. Ragna and Kamini started talking over each other, defeating the mutual intent to dissuade Linza. After a few false starts, Kamini made a Calormene bow, all fluttering paws, and said, “She’s your sister, after all.”  


“Are you completely delusional?” said Ragna. “Do you think they don’t know each other well enough to realize there’s a spare dwarf in the room?” Linza’s glare matched the best of the cobras.  


“I am not as stupid as you think, Ragna,” Linza said icily. “I would be dressed as a human.” There was a slight pause as her listeners processed this pronouncement. Kamini’s dry huffing chuckles were somehow still elegant, but Ragna lost any shred of dignity she might assert over an imagined foe with her wide-mouthed, full-bellied laugh that continued until she started coughing—they’d kicked up a lot of dust earlier. Ragna wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Linza managed to glare harder.  


“I really don’t see what’s so funny. They’ll have the diplomats there, so they won’t know everyone in their group—and the diplomats will assume I’m from here.”  


“Yeah, but, Linza, I know you’re taller than me, but you’re still only three foot seven. There are no heels high enough to fix that. What are you going to do, strap some ladders on your legs?” asked Ragna.  


“There are some very short humans, for your information, Sergeant Know-all. I’ve got some heels and lifts, and once I put my hair up, I’ll be over four feet,” said Linza, setting off a fresh wave of laughter from the two other females, who’d barely recovered from the first round.  


Linza stood, lifted her chin, and tucked the newspaper under her arm. “I didn’t ask your opinion or your permission, as I recall,” she said disdainfully, “and I will not trouble you with my company any longer.” She flipped her ash brown hair, pivoted, and stalked almost out of the room. She didn’t see the edge of the caulking that was near the front door and stumbled, but caught herself, which soured her temper more. Ragna and Kamini managed to stifle themsevles until she exited with a slammed door.  


“She’s not much help, but she’s amusing,” said Kamini a few minutes later when calm prevailed, returning to her review of the west wall. “Do you think we need an arrow slit on this wall? There aren’t any windows.” Ragna nodded, her tanned face gathering into a pucker. Kamini interrogatively cocked her head to a minuscule degree (only dogs would do so obviously). She waited for Ragna to comment on the placement of the defensive measure and wasn’t expecting what came out of her mouth.  


“Do you think she thought we only had an issue with the human disguise part of that plan?” asked Ragna slowly. She ran her hand through her short, cropped hair and sighed. “Witch’s word, I hate trying to save people from themselves.”


End file.
